


A Passing Thought

by SnowyOtakuKitten



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26158609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyOtakuKitten/pseuds/SnowyOtakuKitten
Summary: But in the end that is all it is. Nothing but a passing thought, lost among the sands of time and insurmountable never ending space that can go on forever.





	A Passing Thought

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this months ago and forgot about it. When I found it and read it again today, it seemed beautiful to me.

This is a strange place. It’s hard to tell which way is up and which way is down. There might not be an up or down, because no matter where a person here turns or goes or climbs, they can never find that feeling of ‘upside down’. The fact that the sky and ground are the same color, with only a dark line indicating the horizon, doesn’t help. In this strange place where I have found myself, sometimes it is hard to tell what is real or not. What does it mean to be real anyways?

There are vast towering shapes that fade away when hands reach for them. The little pebbles dotting the ground bloom into sparkling flowers when they are picked up, and collapse back into dust once they fall from loose fingers. Are the looming mirages any less real than the flower-pebbles, simply because hands cannot feel them? It is easy to look around here, and to ask oneself whether anything is real, in this strange place.

Pebbles do not turn into flowers and then into dust, and mirages only exist where the sun is overwhelmingly hot. Those are facts, indisputable things that everyone knows, yet this place feels the need to undermine them. Prove those facts wrong at every turn. Every thought that describes how something is not possible unfurls into this world, only to be turned on their heads as reality crumbles.

The only things that are never built from the constantly swirling stardust and galaxies are people. Other people, who think and speak and walk like me. In this reality full of impossibilities, sentience, thought, and life seem to be the only things that are out of reach. Something like that, a revelation of such importance should be more than just a passing thought. A law of the universe, acknowledged and tested and contemplated. But in the end that is all it is. Nothing but a passing thought, lost among the sands of time and insurmountable never ending space that can go on forever. It is so very easy to forget loneliness and other people when the universe sits in your palms, malleable as clay.

Occasionally the thought will crawl back into the conciseness, and whisper that there may be others out there, why don’t you find them? Aren’t you alone, here in this place? Where even is here? It is hard, sometimes, to say it doesn’t matter where this place is or whether you are alone. Almost in the same way it is hard to tell what is reality or not. But isn’t it always hard to say that, no matter where you are and who you’re with?


End file.
